


Clips from Bilbo and Company

by Questions3



Series: Bilbo And Company [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Bilbo Baggins, Baby Frodo, F/M, Female Bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 15:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9129508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Questions3/pseuds/Questions3
Summary: Sooo, I had another 15 chapter Bilbo and Company special planned out but I'm not sure if it will come to fruition the way I'd planned. So instead of holding onto the chapters I finished and letting them die with me I'mma post them here for your consumption. Should I find I will finish the things I'll repost or edit this. Enjoy!





	1. Spiders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wouldn't it be sweet  
> If you could be in love with me  
> The way that I'm in love with you  
> It's so easy to do.
> 
>  
> 
> Benji Hughes – All You’ve Got to Do is Fall in Love
> 
> This should have a small introduction showing Bilbo taking out those damned eight legged freaks. Maybe later. For now this takes place after Bilbo has her piece with Balin and Thorin in Homicidal Hobbits. She's gotta take care of her hubby.

            She’d just been dozing when a small groan came from the bed. Amber eyes popped open and she jumped from her seat to the side of the bed, running her fingers through the disheveled hair of her beloved. At her ministrations the dwarf groaned again, though this time it was met with a bit of curiosity, “Bofur?”

            The miner grunted as his brown eyes, still a bit hazy from the poison, opened, blinked a bit and then leaned into the small palm. Turning eyes towards the dainty thing that was radiating an amazing feeling of comfort through the lad’s addled body, he followed it up past bare elbow and short white sleeves that were too big for the wee shoulders they sat on, thus baring one to his curious gaze. Once he’d managed to tear himself away from the pretty freckled thing, truly he’d have to count them in a tic, he found himself staring at a cute little stubborn chin that thrust out as he surveyed the lands, sitting below the lushest pink curves he’d seen in his long years. Truly those lips alone warranted a third and fourth take. But he persevered up past a dainty little nose and into the prettiest pair of amber gems he’d ever come across. Though they were currently looking a mite cross as he continued to look into them, best to avoid angering somethin’ so pretty and pink. Maybe if he found out who this sweet thing was he could get it smilin’ for him, “Who…?”

            Seeing his confusion written across his wrinkled brow, she reached out again and brushed the fallen hair once more and gave a small smile to her felled love, “It’s me, Bilbo. Do you remember what happened?”

            He didn’t hear anything past that dimpled smile, made all the cuter for being asymmetric. Staring into the precious indent in her right cheek he mumbled the first thing that came to mind, “But yer a picture... Are ye here for me? Did Mahal send ye to take me ta the Hall? I’ve sure died…”

            The reverent tone of the first mumbled statement went a long way in calming Bilbo as she listened to her idiot prattle on about being deceased. With a roll of the eyes and a deepening of dimple (something Bofur noticed and let a none too subtle appreciative groan for) she shook her head and grasped his hands, “No, no dear one. You’re confused, no doubt the lingering effects from the spiders... I’m your wife.”

            She felt the sudden clench of his hands as his eyes widened comically, though still rather hazy and a bit lopsided, “Yer me – We’re married? Truly? By Mahal’s Forges am I a wizard then? Ta nab such as you’d be a magic indeed…” That same note of reverence was in his deep voice as he suddenly tried to reach up and lay trembling fingers onto her cheek. He missed mind you, by a long shot, landing a flailing limb somewhere nearer the side table and upending a water flagon, but the sentiment was there.

            With a soft giggle Bilbo nabbed the miscreant limb and brought it to its intended resting space, turning her head to kiss his palm as his eyes began to droop once more. Even so, the miner struggled against the sleep that would take him away from this dream, for surely he wasn’t so lucky as to actually have married a lass such as this one, nor smart enough to trick her into it, he knew his limitations after all. With a lopsided imitation of his normal cheeky grin he held the hand in his a bit tighter, slowly tugging it till it came away from her lap and fell to his chest, “Well ‘en, iff’n yer me wife can I ‘ave a wee goodnight kiss?” That got the sweet little giggle to well up again and a warm spread of pink to race across the smooth skin of her bare cheeks. His last drowsy thought as she came closer was how he favored that rush of color more than anything he’d ever seen in his mines.

            Bofur was sleeping before she managed to bend over him, one hand still clutching her own on his chest. With a soft smile she reserved for her sleeping nephew and husband, Bilbo laid a soft peck on his lips, watching as the grin he slept with widened at the contact. Then, with some careful maneuvering, she managed to rearrange them so she lay with their clasped hands on his chest, her head on his shoulder, sleep claiming the pair.

 

            The next morning found Bofur completely unaware of the previous night’s conversation. Though whatever it was he’d said he wished dearly he could remember as he found himself with arms full of sweet, yielding, and enthusiastic hobbit wife.


	2. Thranduil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A scrub is a guy who thinks he's fly  
> And is also known as a buster  
> Always talkin' about what he wants  
> And just sits on his broke ass  
> So (no)
> 
> I don't want your number (no)  
> I don't want to give you mine and (no)  
> I don't want to meet you nowhere (no)  
> I don't want none of your time and (no)
> 
> I don't want no scrub  
> A scrub is a guy that can't get no love from me  
> Hanging out the passenger side  
> Of his best friend's ride  
> Trying to holler at me
> 
> TLC – No Scrubs
> 
> Takes place after the Mirkwood shit in Hiding from Homicidal Hobbits and right before the previous chapter where Bofur's busted up.

            “Oh aye, it’s damn brilliant, that idea. I know there’s not much in the way of reasonable wandering through this group but even Fíli’s got the sense not to head face first into a barrel down a river. But even if ye could convince the rest of the bleedin’ Company, how were you going to get us out of these?” he rattled against the unrelenting bars that housed him, “I’ve taught ye well but even I can’t tickle these tumblers loose! It’d take an el-” His diatribe was cut short, mouth agape as the lock clicked and the tiny hobbit stepped into the frame. She was biting her cheek as she brandished the ring of keys in her hands. Jaw snapped shut, braided brows shot up and the dwarf sauntered out of the cell, “Well, now yur jus’ showin’ off,” and the pair ran to free the rest.

 

            “Wait!” the big blue eyes pinned Nori with a sharp look as he sat in his lap listening to the dwarf’s retelling of part of their epic venture. Tiny black brow marred in consternation as he pointed to his favorite Uncle, “Aunt Bilbo told me you called her cracked when she suggested the barrels.”

            The tridomed thief flicked his hand as he sniffed and looked away from the accusing glare, “Perish the thought. She’s clearly misremembered, though _had_ I done so I could hardly be faulted for assumin’ so many weeks racin’ in the dark with those leaf eaters would dent the cogs.”

            The lad was getting ready for another volley when the door to the Ur caverns burst open and in strode a very incensed Hobbit. Though, Nori would have to admit, the angry flush complimented the deep purple of her brocade gown. Spying the pair in the chair by the fire in the sitting room she marched over and thunked something large, iridescent, and circular onto the table at Nori’s booted feet. Braided brow rose as Nori brought his appendages down and away from the all but hissing lass and turned a smarmy grin up to his favorite apprentice, “Showin’ off again?”

            With a snort Bilbo stormed off to the kitchen, yelling over her shoulder as she went, “Hardly! The tog doesn’t have the sense his creator bestowed on him.” She reappeared with a plate of those blueberry scones Nori preferred and the orange preserve he coveted. Frodo squeaked in delight as one was prepared and thrust over to him before Nori started in on the rest. “Thorin doesn’t have a diplomatic notion in his body or head but Thranduil purposely goes out of his way to behave worse than a faunt!” at that Biblo brushed the crumbs off the tiny tot’s maw and handed him another scone. “So if he refuses to behave as a King of the Woodland Realm _should_ , and none of his subjects deem it fit to correct him, it obviously falls upon me.”

            With a big bite of scone and citrus oozing into his tongue’s eager pores Nori somehow still managed, “An’ wha’ ya gonna do with the piece Pebble?”

            Scowling at the glittery headpiece the burglar collapsed into the chair opposite her mentor and decried, “Take it, toss it in the lake, melt it down, dress in silk and ponce about in the thing, I don’t care.” A shift in amber eyes, flashing gold with heat and then settling into something wicked. Pouty pink lips twitched a bit before Bilbo continued, “On second thought, give it to Kíli. Tell him what you want about how you stole it away from me. How delicate hands must return it to the _self-indulgent_ fool.”

            Swallowing the second to last scone, jamming up and passing the last one to Frodo, Nori smirked as he cautioned, “Lady Dís isn’t going to like it when she finds you’ve been aiding her calf eyed idiot in takin’ up with elves.”

            Rising to her feet once more and crouching to wipe at the sticky child in his lap, Bilbo stated pleasantly as you please, “Well I’ll start concerning myself with my Stone Sister’s grief when she stops using her head as a prop instead of its intended purpose.” Glancing up into the thief’s mutable eyes Bilbo stated plainly, “I’ve more concern for my nephew’s happiness than his parent’s displeasure.”

            With that Nori found he quite agreed and allowed himself to become an instrument in this ridiculous farce. He may need to spend some extended time out of the Mountain again soon, but he’d like to see the youngest Durin happy again. As it was, half the time the lad was moping and the rest he was arguing with his family.

            “Frodo, dear, your face is half glazed with orange zest. Come here a tic.”

            As the lad scampered out of his lap into his Aunt’s arms, Nori observed, “My own face could use a laving. Care to wash me too Pebble?” The smile he sent his tiny friend was nothing short of lascivious. He almost wished the miner weren’t dozing in the room over just so he could watch his braids curl and his face turn. Though it was probably for the best he wasn’t, Nori wasn’t sure who’d get the larger blame if the bastard injured his addled self, chasing after the pleasantly gorged thief.

            A glare and pursed mouth were his answer as the tiny delegate washed the crumbs and jam from her faunt’s face, “Well, now that you’re all fixed up, why don’t you go down to the libraries and see if Ori would like to come with you on your walk with Dwalin this eve?”

            The tot scampered off with a cheery “Okay!” ignoring the smirk on his surrogate’s face and the scowl on his mentor’s.


	3. Goldsickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't you be out all night long  
> Leaving me all alone  
> Because I need your love  
> Don't you be spending every day  
> Working away  
> Because I'm waiting for you  
> Listen to me 1,2,3  
> Baby, baby, baby  
> Spend your time on me
> 
> Duffy – Syrup and Honey
> 
> Meh, you can tell this isn't finished or gone through anything but bare minimal editing. Even so I enjoy the ending :)

            Bofur was draped in ridiculous golden chains and mesh as she came up to check on the Urs. Seeing her approach he struck a ridiculous bow, sweeping his hat off his head as he did, the crown clattering into the rest, “Well met milady Burglar! Wha’ ye think Bilbo? Rather dashin’ ain’t it?” the bush brow swaged as he replaced his hat and the tiny lass laughed at her dear one’s antics.

            With a pursing of pink lips, face only lightly reddened from the flames they’d just escaped, Bilbo attempted a serious continence and survey. She didn’t see the flush that formed beneath the stubbled cheeks of her dwarf as she made a slow circuit around his bedazzled frame. The straightening of his spine that of bulging shoulders and contracting muscles as they moved under the ill fit clothes was appreciated, however, as she stopped to grin up into the eager face of her ‘something more’, “You’re quite right, of course. Though I must say, I think it’s your glowing personality that lends its luminescence to the yellow shroud.”

            The smile that sweet comment produced gleamed brighter than any dancing jingling trinket he was cloaked in.

 

            She was trembling as she worked her way through the dark hall they’d originally set up their bedrolls. Collapsing into her own she dragged the blanket over her head and muffled the sobs in it as she released some of her tension. It was only a time later that she wiped away the stray liquid and glanced around the once more deserted hallway. Surveying her solitude, glittering chartreuse eyes landed on a crumpled bit of brown and fur. Sighing Bilbo rose and moved towards the discarded headgear and lifted it to her face a moment, breathing in the faint familiar scent, and with it some lingering vestiges of her spine.

            It didn’t take long to find the Urs. Bifur waved her down from the entrance, concern shadowing his darkened continence as she stumbled towards him. Strong hands held her up as she stabilized, apprehension was a mantle that engulfed her as she watched the hand signs the addled warrior flashed her, _When did you last eat?_

            With a shake of her head Bilbo looked away from her only enduring companion and watched his cousins. Bombur was sitting in, what seemed to be, a golden bathing tub and was raining coin and jewels onto himself. Every so often his face would cloud and his stomach would gurgle so loudly she could hear it from the perch she occupied with Bifur, but the cook would merely shrug it off and place a new glittery trinket in his mouth, laving it in saliva and spittle. Luckily enough he stopped just short of actually eating it, but she wasn’t entirely secure that would continue. Bofur was not too far off from there, crouched in the mounds digging through jewelry and armor. His tangled hair and mustache escaping his braids, endowed with enough jewel and gold beadwork to sink a continent and an encrusted circlet pushed down onto his forehead, a crown lying atop it. A trickle of blood ran down both sides of his face from where he’d added piercings to his ears to adorn them in more jewelry before Bifur’d been able to stop him. Sometime in the last few days he’d divested himself of his shirt as well as his hat. Now his muscular chest and arms were bared to the tinted firelight in fleshy patches between the ropes of necklaces and chain-link. He’d replaced his leather gloves with gold mesh, his pants had straps of chain hanging and circling them, his boots endowed with golden stirrups and plates he’d dug up.

            With a watery sigh Bilbo pushed away from Bifur and made a tired, determined way to the toymaker. At her approach brown eyes turned up to her, and for a moment, flickering in the golden haze of the hall, they were melted chocolate again, watching her come level to him. A large hand came up to meet her, a dark brow turning down as his face morphed from fanatical to concern. But it only took a small flash of light off the reflective metals to have those liquid eyes turning cold, going dark as pitch, and the concern replaced with frenzied delight, “Bilbo! Wha’ do ya think now? Worth any ten dwarf, hobbit, man, or elf, aye? Nothin’ more impressive than all this glitter. Aye, a lad could give ye anythin’ an’ everythin’ ya deserve with the smallest ring on me tiniest finger!” The eyes turned back to her, but they remained frigid as they waited for her fawning response.

            Bilbo’s smile was stretched thin as she lowered her gaze and performed the obligatory circuit. It had become a game with them, and now it was a penance. She never should have let them into the mountain. It was all her fault Lake Town lay smoldering, two armies were growling at their gates, and her friends were lost in this cursed mineral. Coming back around to the front of her dear Bofur she saw him waiting for her answer with a smitten smile as he jingled a necklace of golden bells. “Oh Bofur,” the sigh reached his ears and something else as it’s choked tones registered, pitch thawing a little as a tear fell down ashen cheeks. Suddenly tiny, nimble hands were racing through disheveled black hair, beads and trinkets dancing and tinkling to the floor as they worked through. The miner yelped and tried to back away from the frantic ministrations of the half mad hobbit but was hindered by the weight of his other trophies. Arms were raised to fend her off but they fell away, also weighted down by metal. In the next second, however, they were paralyzed by a sharp flame that raced through him from his scalp to his toes as tiny nails scraped through his follicles, sending a tremble through him. “You’re drowning your beguiling braids in trinkets.” They moved from his hair down his face and beard to his chest, pressing into his hard pectorals before seizing the chains on his neck and ripping them from him in chunks, body hair tangled into the ropes sending shocks of sensation through dulled nerves. His panicked response as his riches were thrown from him was paused as a tiny forehead crashed onto his own, something ruffled in his head, a warmth spread that reminded him of a toasty hearth at the end of a wretched day. A hearth with his family surrounding it and laughing as they caught up on each other, laying his weariness aside as he recouped from the long hours of back breaking labor. “You’re stooped over, it’s weighed you down, bent you before you’re due.” Warm breath raced across his lips, distracting him from the fingers that fell down to his own and began sliding his winnings from his suddenly very tired and trembling hands. He hadn’t realized how cold they’d been before he felt another’s anchoring them into their own. “It steals the warmth from your hands.” The soft forehead left his and his work-roughened hands, mostly bare now, were abandoned. Before he could think to recover his lost baubles something fur trimmed and heavily scented in experience and history was dropped onto his newly bared head. Brown eyes looked up into amber, glittering chartreuse with unspent tears, as the tiny burglar watched him, white lips trembling when a soft and quaking voice broke, “It suits you more than anything else here. It’s flexible, its durability. Its kept me warm and made me laugh like nothing that glitters ever could.” A sniffle broke clean through his suddenly rapidly beating heart as she wiped frantically at her cheeks, “I don’t want any ten, twenty, or thirty odd hobbits, dwarves, men or elves. I just want my one, warm, friend back.”

            Bilbo was blind by the end of her statement, but when strong, calloused hands grabbed her face, seeping heat into her once more; she closed her eyes and sobbed into the strong chest. The countless apologies and pleads to stop crying were met by an emotionally overrun roaring in her own head as she wrapped her arms around his neck and held there as though she’d never let go again.

            “Ach, lass *gasp* no’ the neck!” It did Bofur unending good to see those amber eyes glitter with laughter, even if it was a bit drowned as she leaned back in his arms and loosened her grip (though she didn’t release it). And Bilbo thought it may be worth loosing her anchor if only to see those bright chocolate eyes on her once more, smiling down in lucid affection for the first time in much too long.


End file.
